


Difference of Sex No More We Knew

by PuppiesRainbowsSadism



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Genderbend, Multi, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1429918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppiesRainbowsSadism/pseuds/PuppiesRainbowsSadism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Sam and Dean are female  -- were born with two X chromosomes and are cisgender. And that's the only change.</p>
<p>When Sam and Dean find Castiel's vessel bloodied, bruised, and very much not alive, they have to come to terms with the fact that Cas is dead. This is much more difficult for Sam, for obvious reasons. Don't let the summary fool you; this is not a deathfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Difference of Sex No More We Knew

**Author's Note:**

> Genderbend AU, requested by gabiotasol @ tumblr.
> 
> Title from John Donne's "Relique": "First, we lov'd well and faithfully, / Yet knew not what we lov'd, nor why, / Difference of sex no more we knew, / Then our Guardian Angels do"
> 
> ~~~~~
> 
> Okay, so here's my thing: I didn't genderbend Cas, not really. Because angels are genderless and their sex is determined by their vessel. So instead I put Cas in a female body, and that was all I changed about him. Also, smut because the relationship would be exactly the same regardless of gender, except for the sexy bits.
> 
> Don't let the beginning fool you; this is not a deathfic.

                Honestly, Sam was just beginning to come to terms with the fact that Cas was dead. It had been a handful of weeks ago (five weeks, two days, seventeen hours, and something like twenty minutes, but who was counting?) that they found Castiel’s vessel, beaten and bloodied useless, almost unrecognisable, but Sam would recognise Castiel anywhere, and this was him. Sam hadn’t let herself cry because she couldn’t at the time, still in the thick of the danger, and afterwards she had fallen heavily into denial. Cas couldn’t be dead. He had so many promises he had to keep, and he couldn’t do that if he were dead.

                Dean pitied Sam. That much was obvious. But it didn’t matter because five weeks, two days, seventeen hours, and something like twenty-five minutes later, she was starting to grasp the concept. Now, she let herself cry, Dean supposedly asleep the next bed over as Sam’s shoulders trembled, her face buried in her pillow to muffle any noise. She could very well fall asleep like this, and the notion of drowning in her own tears was ridiculously appealing. Ridiculous because she recognised it was impossible; appealing for obvious reasons.

                When Sam woke up in the morning with red eyes, a wet pillow, and a migraine, she fully expected Dean to make some sort of comment, but her sister only offered a small, sympathetic smile as she passed her a couple aspirin and a Frappuccino. A comfort drink and a peace offering. Sam wasn’t dumb, she knew Dean was hurting. Cas was her friend, after all. The difference was that Dean had accepted Cas as dead the moment she saw the corpse, and burning it had been closure for her. Dean had over five weeks of a head start on Sam, and she was done with the whole mourning business.

                Sam, meanwhile, felt like her heart had been carved out of her chest with a number two pencil, the way that boys carved at their desks in public schools. She loved Castiel in a way that she knew she would never love anyone again. She couldn’t.

                That night, Dean left on the pretence of needing to get drunk and get laid, but Sam suspected it was an excuse to give her some alone time to work through her grief. That was fine. Dean promised to be back with breakfast in the morning, and mostly Sam just wanted her gone. As soon as the rumble of the Impala was out of earshot, Sam laid down and melted into the mattress with a weary sigh. She let herself think about Cas. Not about his death, but about him, the time they spent together, good and bad, and she realised that it all ended on a high note. There was not one thing left unsaid, one argument left unresolved, and that was the best she could hope for.

                Sam let the tears fall freely, her sobs echoing unhindered in the empty room. It wasn’t mourning if she held back, so she didn’t. Cas deserved as much of her as she could afford to give, and then some. So she let herself hurt, and it felt good. It felt like healing.

                At one point, the wind whistled through the draft room and sounded like the soft flutter of Cas’s wings when he appeared in a room. It coaxed a particularly loud sob from Sam’s chest when she realised that the sound would always remind her of Cas, although it never would be, not again. Almost immediately, someone was at her side, pushing her hair out of her face and asking what was wrong in a sweet mezzo-soprano voice, slight lilt of a Northern accent.

                Sam had a gun pointed at the intruder before her brain had caught up to the fact that there _was_ an intruder. She blinked the tears away to better see her target: It was a young woman – small, but not petite, curvy, messy pixie cut and –

                -- and startling cobalt blue eyes.

                Sam shook her head to dispel the thoughts of Cas. Had to focus.

                “Who are you?” she demanded.

                The woman stood slowly, her hands held up in defence. “Sam, it’s me. It’s Castiel.”

                “Castiel is _dead_ ,” Sam spat. “Who are you?”

                “I’ve been without a vessel for a while, but I was never dead.”

                Sam snarled and took a deep breath to steady herself. She wanted so badly to believe. “Last chance. _Who are you?_ ”

                The woman’s expression was sad as she walked forward until she was almost literally staring down the barrel of the gun. “Your name is Samantha Alexandra Winchester,” she said softly. “You attended Stanford University, majoring in pre-law, until your boyfriend was killed by the same demon who killed your mother. Azazel.”

                Sam’s aim didn’t waver. Any demon could know that.

                “You fell for Castiel the moment you met,” the woman continued. “You were in such awe in an angel’s presence. But he put you down, and you’ve been trying so hard to earn his approval since then. Needlessly, I might add.”

                Sam wavered slightly. Any angel could know that, but it was becoming less and less likely.

                The woman frowned and closed her eyes on a burdened sigh. Seeing that Sam still didn’t believe her, she continued in a whisper, “Last winter, Castiel gave you a bracelet of glass beads that you wore every day until it was broken during a hunt. You don’t cry often, but you cried then. When you’re sad, he compares you to celestial bodies, and it makes you feel better. The first time we kissed was in a field in Texas during bluebonnet season. We made love in the same field a year later. There’s a spot behind your knee that – “

                “Oh, God, _Cas_ ,” Sam sobbed. She dropped the gun and threw herself into Cas’s arms, crying into his shoulder. Cas held her tight, rocked them back and forth. He didn’t shush her but rubbed one hand up and down her spine until her tears ran out and she began to hiccup.

                “I thought you were dead,” Sam muttered into Cas’s skin.

                “I know. I’m so sorry.”

                “God dammit, Castiel.”

                “I’m here now. It’s okay.”

                It was. It would be. Sam’s chest hurt.

                She took a step back to just look at Cas. He didn’t look how she remembered – new vessel, Sam supposed – but there was no doubt in her mind that it was the same person. She cradled his face in her hands and pressed their lips together urgently. She had to feel him, to know she wasn’t dreaming and Cas was really still alive. Cas kissed back with just as much enthusiasm, carding his fingers through Sam’s hair gently, reverently. Cas tasted sweeter than Sam was used to. It wasn’t a bad taste, though, not by any means.

                Sam moaned desperately and pushed Cas towards the bed, laying him down gently before climbing between his legs.

                “Sam,” Cas gasped, pulling away with some effort. That was fine; Sam sucked on his neck instead, making Cas writhe. “This vessel – i-it’s not – it doesn’t have – “

                “I don’t care,” Sam muttered, placing a kiss to the hollow of Cas’s throat and wondering, briefly, if Cas’s lack of a penis meant he would switch to female pronouns. She would have to ask later. “I just found out you’re alive. All I want right now is to have awesome life-affirming sex.” It was supposed to be a joke, except it wasn’t. Sam licked back into Cas’s mouth and brought a hand down to scratch the seam between Cas’s legs. The vibrations through the denim drew a rattling moan out of Cas, and Sam smirked. She had loads of tricks up her sleeve, and now she had the chance to use them to reduce an angel into a moaning mess.

                “ _Oh_ , Sam,” Cas moaned, lifting his hips involuntarily. “That feels – “

                “Good, right?” Sam purred, almost predatory. “This is how you make me feel all the time, Cas.”

                Whatever the angel had been about to say was cut off when Sam scratched again. _God_ , Cas was so receptive, so sensitive. He was probably already dripping, and with that thought, Sam suddenly _needed_ to taste him.

                Still, she undressed Cas slowly, helping him out of his blouse and bra. Sam worshiped each inch of skin as it was revealed, trailing lips and fingertips over the soft, supple flesh so goose bumps trailed behind. As she slowly stripped Cas out of his jeans, she couldn’t help but notice that this vessel had significantly less muscle than the first one. Whoever this woman was had been heavy, voluptuous, and Sam couldn’t keep her hands off the distinctly “pear-shaped” curves. There was significantly more give, and that was all manners of hot at the moment.

                Cas moved to remove his panties, but Sam stopped him. She had been right: Cas was already beginning to soak through the thin cotton. Sam moved her way down his body, nipping clavicle and nipple and ribs and hipbones before burying her face between Cas’s legs. Christ, he smelled amazing. She bet he tasted even better. She mouthed at him eagerly, moaning at the taste, moaned louder at Cas’s shuddering gasp of surprise.

                “Sam,” Cas gasped desperately. “Sam, please.”

                Sam wasn’t aiming to tease. Without hesitation, she pulled Cas’s panties off gently and kissed between his legs. Cas sighed; Sam thought his pulse against her lips was reassuring in so many ways.

                Sam sighed and licked a broad stripe up to Cas’s clit, circling it with her tongue before closing her lips on his labia and sucking gently. Cas bucked up off the bed with a cry. Sam didn’t hold him down this time. She figured this was Cas’s first experience with a pussy, and these were all signs of life.

                Sam ate Cas out as if they were kissing – licking and sucking, occasionally nipping the sensitive skin between pelvis and thigh – until Cas was absolutely dripping. His voice had risen half an octave, and Sam could tell he was close when his cloudy, musky taste cleared up pure. Sam wriggled her tongue between the folds until she found Cas’s hole and gently pressed her way in, her nose bumping his clit almost on accident, and Cas was gone. Sam moved with him through the waves as his muscles contracted around her tongue, pussy throbbing against her face. Life-affirming sex indeed.

                Sam pulled away and licked up the slick on her face as well she could while Cas gasped for air beneath her, chest heaving. Sam picked up Cas’s blouse from the floor to wipe off the rest, but Cas hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pulled her into a long, deep kiss. Cas moaned, tasting himself on Sam’s tongue, and kissed her until all he could taste was pure _Sam_.

                “I’m alive,” he smiled lazily. “Are you satisfied?” Before Sam could even begin to answer, Cas frowned with a small “oh” and reached for the heat of Sam’s crotch. Sam gasped openly, her hips rocking involuntarily before she gripped Cas’s wrist and forced his hand away.

                “Cas,” she said meaningfully, “I’m satisfied.”

                “But you didn’t – “

                “I don’t need to. You’re alive,” she echoed with a smile, “I am satisfied.”

                Cas was obviously uncomfortable with the idea of not reciprocating, but Sam just kissed him again and turned out the light. They cuddled up together under the sheets, although truthfully, she was afraid to fall asleep.

                “You may rest,” Cas assured, kissing the crown of her head. Sometimes Sam had to wonder if Cas just read her well or if he actually did read her mind. “I will be here when you wake up. I promise.”

                Sam was still wary of letting Cas out of her sight, but her angel was warm and relaxed, so she let herself drift anyway.


End file.
